


Stalking

by methylviolet10b



Series: By a Whisker [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Magical Realism, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Most of London was asleep. Most people in London were idiots. Written for JWP #30.





	Stalking

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: A somewhat pointless return to the oh-so-cracky AU of By a Whisker, where John is occasionally a kitten. If you haven't read those stories, this might not make much sense. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP 2017 #30: Musical Prompt (Paganini's Caprice #24). Why did this make me think of cats, stalking, and John-as-a-kitten? Your guess is as good as mine.

It was late at night, almost early morning. Most of London was fast asleep. Most people in London were idiots. These were the hours when the Work could be done.  
  
Many people thought that what Sherlock did when making a successful deduction – or at least concluding a successful investigation – was some combination of observing details others didn’t, combined with various bits of legwork, rule-breaking and law-breaking, and pure genius in putting facts together. It was all of that, but also so much more. Specifically, few people realized how much research went into a proper investigation. Almost no one recognized Sherlock’s Internet skills, both in terms of utilizing it for research, and his hacking abilities. Given a reliable Internet connection and sufficient time, there was very little in the modern world that Sherlock couldn’t ferret out.  
  
Or kitten out, in this case.   
  
Sherlock adjusted his headphones and continued to sort through the data. He liked listening to particular pieces when he did this kind of work. Right now it was Paganini, Caprice #24, a recording Sherlock knew so well he often didn’t hear it consciously, just let it carry his thoughts into greater and faster connections. It helped when he was working through large data sets, and this was certainly one of the larger ones he’d worked with in a while. It had taken considerable time and thought (by his standards) to come up with suitable algorithms for searching for something as nebulous as transformation curses, and even more work on the filters, to keep from being drowned in items related to random crap telly, as John liked to call it when he watched such things.  
  
He didn’t have anything definitive. Not yet. But he could feel that he might be on the right track, that he might be getting close to something important, if not actual answers. Answers would follow, if he could just get his mental hands on some relevant facts…  
  
The plucked notes (so difficult, so amazing in this recording) always made Sherlock’s heart race a little, but something else sent a shiver up his spine. Sherlock swept off his headphones and spun around, suddenly certain he was being watched.  
  
A small oatmeal-coloured tabby kitten sat on the sofa back, practically at Sherlock’s shoulder. Bright blue feline eyes flickered from the screen to Sherlock’s face. A striped tail thumped twice.  
  
One moment it was a kitten staring at him, and then John was perched on the sofa, entirely nude as he always was after transforming. His expression was half-amused, half-annoyed, and utterly unselfconscious. Before he knew John’s secret, Sherlock speculated John’s casual attitude towards nudity – his own and others – was a result of his being a doctor combined with time in the Army. Now he knew that it was as much nature as nurture.  
  
“You could have just asked, you know.” John tilted his head, examining Sherlock much the way Sherlock thought others might think he examined them. “You do know I’ll always give you any answers I have, don’t you?”  
  
It was still somewhat difficult for Sherlock to believe that, despite multiple examples. “I thought you didn’t know much about your curse,” he prevaricated.  
  
“I don’t, but I do know at least some details. If family folklore is to be believed, that is, but it’s hard to argue that at least some of it must be true, hm?” He grinned, but his eyes remained curious. “Why the sudden interest? I offered to tell you about this before, but you didn’t seem all that curious.”  
  
Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck. “That was before.”  
  
John said nothing, simply waiting.  
  
“Before you were hurt.” _Before you didn’t change back all the way, at least not right away, and I didn’t know how to help you, or what to do_ , he could have added, but did not. “I need to know more about your condition so I am in a better position to understand the ramifications. I dislike ignorance, John.”   
  
“All right,” John said easily. “What would you like to know?”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 30, 2017.


End file.
